Right now, he couldn’t afford to have anyone, most of all Flora, know his real name. Flora’s father was once George’s father’s best friend, but the two men had had a falling-out years ago, shortly before the Montgomerys moved to Leadville.
Though George didn’t know what had happened, he did know that John Montgomery was considered an enemy of the family. With George’s father now gone, it was up to George to figure out what was going wrong at the family’s mine, and he wasn’t sure if the Montgomerys could be trusted. A young lady of Flora’s station would obviously know nothing about her father’s business, but all it would take was a careless mention of running into George, and his carefully crafted plan would fall apart. John Montgomery most likely wouldn’t recognize George for the same reasons Flora hadn’t.
He watched her retreat, noting that the years since their childhood had been kind to her. She’d grown into a graceful young woman, and he’d heard tales of her beauty long before this meeting. The tales had not done her justice. No longer the knobby-kneed, freckle-faced brat who once poked fun at him for sport, Flora had acquired not only beauty, but a gentility that drew him.
Back in his debutante-chasing days, Flora would have been exactly the sort of woman George would pursue. But those days were over, thanks to his father’s death and subsequent rumors that the mine was having financial troubles. His former fiancée, Shannon, had given him back his ring with the sickeningly sweet suggestion that he might need the money from selling it.
No more debutantes or any other kind of socialite for George.
Even if he found a way to straighten out his family’s finances, he didn’t want a wife who could only love him in the “for richer” part of their vows. Women like Flora expected a certain kind of life, a life he wasn’t sure he could provide. If he’d learned anything from this experience, it was that a man’s fortune could change more quickly than anyone could imagine, and regardless of how things turned out for him financially, he needed to know his future wife would be happy in any circumstance.
Still... Flora Montgomery. Tempting. He’d liked the way she’d taken on caring for a baby when she had no idea what she was doing. Even though she’d been utterly disgusted with the baby spitting up on her, she still had a sweet smile for little Ethel. The last thing Flora had wanted to do was take care of a baby, that was obvious, but he’d seen her genuine concern for the child.
Of course, he had to remember that he wasn’t George Bellingham, welcome in parlors of the finest families, but George Baxter, lowly miner, and from the way Flora had recoiled at his acquaintance, he wouldn’t be invited to tea anytime soon. As tempting as it was to get to know her better, he wasn’t going to go down that path. The likes of Flora Montgomery were only interested in men who could advance their social standing. Even if George’s plan worked, he wanted no part of a woman who couldn’t love a man for who he was. Call him sentimental, but his parents had married long before they’d had money, and theirs was one of the best marriages he’d ever seen.
Shannon had done him a favor, giving him his ring back. And he wasn’t planning on giving it to anyone else who could only see a man for his bank account or social standing.
Neither of which would amount to much if he didn’t figure out who was sabotaging operations at the mine. A couple weeks ago, an entire tunnel had caved in, narrowly avoiding killing several workers. His brother-in-law, Arthur, had told him that it was the cost of doing business, and these things happened sometimes. But that wasn’t how George’s father had done business, and had it not been for a runaway carriage, he’d still be here to make things right.
Which left the task up to George.
His mother had been badly injured in the carriage accident, and her medical bills and treatments were costly. Arthur was busy handling the family’s other business interests, which were also inexplicably losing money. Though Arthur had insisted that George remain at Harvard, pursuing his studies so that he could eventually take his place in the family businesses, George couldn’t sit back and watch his family lose everything.
Arthur might be too busy to get to the bottom of the troubles at the mine, but George wasn’t. How could he continue spending money that the family might not have much longer? His mother needed the medical care. His sister was expecting another baby. No, the answer was not to bury himself in the books, but in this mine.
Folks used to say that Elias Bellingham was far too generous in his dealings with others, and that it would someday send him to the poorhouse. Which was why, Arthur had told him, the family business was nearly bankrupt again.
Didn’t George owe it to his father’s legacy to see if he could turn things around at the mine?
A faint whimper on the other side of the tree where he’d laid his canteen caught his attention. As George rounded the tall pine that hadn’t yet been claimed by the camp for fuel or building material, he spied a little boy sitting in the hollow near a boulder a few yards away.
“Hey, little guy,” George said softly as he approached. “Are you all right?”
The small boy couldn’t be more than three or four years old, the same age as his nephew, Sam.
A tear-stained face stared up at him, longing thick in the child’s eyes. He spoke rapidly, but the words were foreign to George. All he could understand was, “Père.”
Father. George had taken a few French lessons, but he’d been terrible at it. Many of his peers had had French nannies, learning the language as part of daily life. But the Bellinghams had gone with a more traditional English nanny. Which did him little good now.
Since the boy looked like he was about to start crying again, George knelt beside him. Maybe the boy spoke English. “Parlez-vous Anglais?”
The little boy shook his head. Great. That was about the extent of the French he could remember, other than a few words that didn’t seem helpful here.
Pointing to himself, he said, “George.”
Then he pointed at the little boy.
“Pierre,” the boy said.
Then the boy began speaking again in rapid French. George shook his head and pointed to himself again. “No parlez Français.”
Hopefully it was enough to convey to the boy that he didn’t understand. The boy nodded slowly as tears continued rolling down his cheeks.
George pointed to himself again. “George...help...Pierre.” Wait. What was the word for help? “Aid?”
That seemed to get Pierre’s attention, or at least stop the flow of tears.
Pierre pointed at George’s canteen.
“Are you thirsty?”
Silly of him to ask, since Pierre probably didn’t know the word. George held out the canteen, mostly empty from Flora’s use, but there was a little water to spare.
Pierre drank the water quickly, then pointed to his stomach.
What was the word for hungry? Back when George was pudgy, everything had been about food. “Faim?”
Hopefully he wasn’t telling Pierre something awful. But Pierre nodded, so George took that as a good sign.
Judging by the fact that the little boy was alone and crying, George was going to assume he’d somehow gotten separated from his father. But how was he supposed to find a little boy’s father when he’d barely arrived at the mining camp himself? He’d been here just long enough to pitch a tent and gain employment at the mine.
Flora. She was here with the church mission. Perhaps the people at the church mission would know of anyone who spoke French who could... George smiled. Flora had a French nanny when they were children. She used to brag about how her nanny was superior to everyone else’s because of it. She and her friends would speak in French, giving themselves airs and using it as a means to exclude the other children. Back then, he’d found it annoying.
But now, it just might save this little boy’s life. Flora could help him care for the boy and tr
anslate so they could find Pierre’s father.
George gave Pierre a smile. “Pierre come with George. Manger.” At least that’s what he thought the word for eat was. He held out his hand.
Clearly the love of food that had led to George’s torment as a child was helping him now. Pierre smiled back and took George’s hand.
George had never imagined he’d be so grateful for Flora Montgomery. When they were children, she’d teased him and tormented him mercilessly. Who knew that Flora’s annoying affectation from the past might very well be the thing he needed most right now? While pursuing his newfound attraction to her was still out of the question, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again.
George ruffled the little boy’s hair. He wished he could convey something more to him, to make him feel comfortable, but at least Flora could do that. Despite the complication of meeting Flora so early in his quest, knowing that she could be the one person to expose him, she would also be a great asset. People might say that Elias Bellingham’s weakness was his concern for others, but George was grateful his father had passed on that trait to him. He wouldn’t feel right leaving Pierre until his father had been found, and Flora’s help would make it easier for George to help Pierre and accomplish his own mission. As long as he could keep Flora from learning his real reason for being in the camp.
Though he hoped to find Pierre’s father quickly, George was going to enjoy every moment he spent in Flora’s company until then.
Chapter Two
Flora was able to slip away to the creek to wash after her baby-minding disaster. Though how she was going to accomplish a good cleansing and change her dress out in the open, she had no idea. The place was private enough, or so some of the other ladies had said. But was this another of their tricks, like Lindsay Carmichael goading her into bringing her best dresses instead of work clothes?
Not that she had anything that could be considered work clothes. Flora sighed. Perhaps it had been a mistake to think that redemption would come to someone like her.
“Flora?” Rose Jones walked down the embankment carrying a bundle. “I heard you’d come this way.”
Of course it would have to be Rose. Flora sighed. Of all the people she’d injured with her thoughtless words, Rose had been hurt the worst. And though Rose had said she’d forgiven Flora, and was polite, if not kind, to her, Flora always wondered if she could truly count on Rose as a friend.
“I was hoping to wash up. My dress smells.” Flora pointed at her soiled silk gown, a yellow stain spreading across the pale pink fabric. It was probably ruined.
Rose looked around. “It’s private enough with most of the men at work, but I wouldn’t come here much later in the day. And you shouldn’t be here alone. As much as Uncle Frank has done to keep us safe, you have to remember that many of the people here don’t have the same regard for the law and civility as we do.”
Flora stared at the ground. She’d only wanted to clean up, but it seemed there was fault in that as well.
“It’s all right,” Rose said softly, stepping forward. “You haven’t been up to the camp before, and I suspect that Lindsay didn’t give you good instructions. I’d hoped to orient you myself, but Milly was ill, so I’ve only just arrived.”
“What’s wrong with Milly?” One of Flora’s many mistakes, and ways she’d wronged Rose, had involved Rose’s stepdaughter, Milly. Before Rose married Silas, Rose had been Milly’s nanny, but because Milly’s grandparents disapproved, Flora had assisted them by trying to take over as Milly’s nanny. When Milly’s grandparents took Milly away without Rose’s permission, Flora helped them, thinking she was doing the right thing. During that time, Flora had developed a genuine affection for the little girl. Still, what Flora had done was wrong, and it was only the mercy shown by Rose and her now-husband, Silas, that had kept Flora out of jail.
Flora turned away. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the right to ask.”
“Of course you do.” Rose stepped in front of her and smiled. “I’m grateful that you care so much about her. It was just a little cold, and she’s fine now. She remained behind with Maddie, our housekeeper, but when I see her again, I’ll pass on your good wishes.”
Another friendly smile. Rose held out the bundle to Flora. “I brought you a dress. The one you’re wearing is too fine for being up here, and from the giggling I heard from the others, I suspect everything else you brought is just as nice.”
Flora gaped at Rose. Why was she being so kind to her? True, after the situation with Milly’s grandparents, part of Flora’s restitution was to help with the ministry. And Flora had worked side by side with Rose several times in the months since.
But that didn’t mean Flora deserved any sort of kindness from Rose.
“I also brought a blanket. I’ll hold it up so you can have privacy to wash up and change. You’ll have to wash quickly, but it’s better than the alternative.”
Another bright smile.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Flora made no move to accept the dress Rose held out.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Flora shrugged. “I could list a thousand reasons. I’ve been horrible to you since you came to Leadville. I don’t deserve your kindness.”
With a long sigh, Rose sat on a nearby rock. “You’re right. You’ve made my life difficult in a number of ways. But you’ve apologized and I forgave you. I’ve seen the change in your behavior over the past few months, and I know that you’ve let the Lord work in your heart. The Lord has been kind to me. How could I not be kind to you?”
“You sound a lot like Pastor Lassiter,” Flora said, meeting the other woman’s eyes. “He’s been telling me the same thing.”
“And now I know why he specifically asked me to come on this trip.” Rose smiled again, and because Flora was observing her eyes, she could see the warmth lurking there. “After my scandal of having my son out of wedlock, I thought I’d accepted the Lord’s forgiveness. I did my best to hold my head up high, knowing that God didn’t hold my sin against me. But it seemed like there were so many who were constantly reminding me of my sin.”
“Like me,” Flora said, hating the way she could still remember how she smiled as she gossiped about Rose’s misfortune. One more thing Rose should hate her for.
Rose shrugged. “You weren’t the only one. But that is exactly my point. I’ve forgiven you. It’s time for you to forgive yourself.”
She made it sound so easy. Perhaps because she didn’t know all the details of what Flora had done. Things only Flora and God knew. Even so, everyone else in town made certain to remind her of all the reasons she didn’t deserve forgiveness.
“The rest of the town doesn’t seem to agree with you.”
“It doesn’t matter. Chasing after their approval is never going to bring you happiness. What matters is that your heart is aligned with God’s, and that you live out the forgiveness He’s offered you.”
Flora let out another long sigh. What Rose said made sense, but she didn’t understand how hard it was to put into action. “But people aren’t actively shunning you or laughing at you.”
“Not in our church.” Rose stood and held out the bundle. “But there are still homes I’m not welcome in, people who make snide comments in the mercantile. Just the other day, I was at the milliner’s, and one of the ladies there noticed me and said that if they were catering to fallen women, she wouldn’t shop there anymore.”
“But that’s ridiculous. You’re a respectable woman.”
Rose shrugged. “I still had a child out of wedlock, and for some, that’s a fact they can’t get past. But I’ve dealt with my sin. God forgives me. And if others can’t move on, that’s their problem, not mine.”
Rose continued. “Now let’s hurry and get you washed and changed. I’m sure they’re missing us.”
Doing as Rose asked, Flora quickly hid under the blanket provided, cleaning up the remaining mess. When she was ready, she emerged from the blanket and held up her soiled dress.
“Is it so terrible that all I want to do is burn this dress I once begged Mother for?”
Rose smiled. “When we get back to town, we’ll have Maddie take a look. If anyone can salvage it, she can.”
As blind as Flora had once been to Rose’s warmth, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. “You really are trying to be my friend, aren’t you?”
“I know what it’s like to be the most hated woman in our circle. And I know how hard it is, once you’ve realized the error of your ways and are trying to make up for it, to be free of the stigma. If I can help you through your pain, then everything I have endured will have been worth it.”
They started back up the hill. Flora tried processing Rose’s words, but all she could think of were the wrongs she’d committed.
“But I hurt you.”
Rose stopped and stared at her. “I forgave you. So let go of the past. Until you can, you’re never going to be able to move forward in freedom.”
The cabin came into view. Flora’s stomach knotted at the thought of having to face all the others, to listen to their laughter and mockery.
“What about them?”
“If there’s someone you haven’t offered an apology to, then make haste to do so. But if you’ve sincerely gone to those you’ve offended and asked forgiveness, you’ve done your part.”
An Unlikely Mother Page 2
